


Lighthouse

by ferer56



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Dubcon or Noncon Moirallegiance, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5747248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferer56/pseuds/ferer56
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a job you had never wanted, a gloomy heart-breaking business. But if not for your shining light upon the shore, how else could she avoid the jagged rocks below?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lighthouse

Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and you could scarcely believe the tale emerging from the ether on your screen. You drank it in slowly, afraid of letting your rationality escape you. A difficult task given the sheer horror of their plan. Now you understood why your moirail had been so steadfastly avoiding you. She had been afraid of letting it slip: a bad habit of hers when she was particularly proud of some scheme or treachery. And given the gruesome details, this was by far her deadliest one yet.

Still, you were having a difficult time determining the proper course of action here. If you were to confront her, you would likely not be able to convince her otherwise. Worst of all, she’d view you as more than just the meddler, the voice of conscience that scolded her every time you caught her with fingers in the proverbial cookie jar. She’d view you as a direct impediment to her desires.

She’d view you as the enemy.

But if you did nothing, if you waited as was your wont until the damage had been done, there would be no way to undo it. She’d become the pariah she had always thought herself to be, and there was no telling where that road might go.

But it _was_ a road you could travel with her. You could provide comfort that she needed, the friend that remained stubbornly by her side when all others had fled in fear and loathing. And with nobody else left to give her the attention that she craved, maybe she’d even open up. Maybe, you thought as your blood-pumper beat faster in your chest, she’d accept the red facilitations written everywhere but upon your fashionable sleeves.

You shook that dalliance away, your over-protectiveness easily overpowering your self-centered desires. Yet even that maternal warmth could not so easily overcome your fear of your moirail slipping from your grasp. You sighed, relegating your earlier selfish thought to the same dustbin wherein you had so meticulously dumped every other one of your stupid ideas to at last win her red affections. The same receptacle wherein you had tossed aside at the last moment the tag you had so very nearly left within the coating of the Mindfang costume she had begged you for nearly half a sweep to design for her.

The tag that had read: “To my dearest treasure.”

Too obvious.

And there you were rambling again. You leaned back in your divan, trying to think of some middle ground between your two choices. But of course fate had not been so kind. It expected you to make a choice. A choice between doing something you knew would fail, and not doing anything and being complicit in your moirail’s self-destruction. Well, maybe you could message her on Trollian? No, that was a dumb idea too: she’d just ignore you until after the fact, and it would be like you hadn’t done anything at all. You sighed, wracking your thinkpan as you tried to think of anyway to escape the choice you had been presented with.

Well.

Maybe there _was_ a middle path.

You bolted upright, hastily scrawling a message in Trollian thanking Eridan for his assistance, and rushed out the door.

You came back in just moments later, turning off the lights, before bolting yet again.

The harsh sun beat its rays upon your back, trying its damndest to keep you down. Yet you had little time for its silly games right now, thanking whatever mysterious forces that had created your race that they had thought it fit to provide one of your blood with the strength to survive the scorching sun. It allowed you the slightest chance to make things right.

It was not long before the familiar gloomy hive loomed into view. Dark and ominous at night, during the day it just looked rather incongruous. And tacky. That aspect of your moirail’s hive never changed regardless of the time of day. You ascended the stairs, staring up at the looming castle before you growing larger with your every impatient step. Okay, maybe even during the day it also looked a little ominous.

Before long you had arrived before her door, pausing as the full weight of your decision weighed down on you. It would require finesse, cunning, and just the slightest bit of luck to pull this off. You hoped that at least a little your moirail’s tremendous good fortune had rubbed off on you. You would need it. You raised your dainty fingers to the harsh wooden door, hesitating. This was it, your last chance to turn around. Once you had awoken your moirail, you couldn’t just abscond.

That would be so incredibly rude.

With a flutter in your stomach, you knocked quite a bit more loudly than one would expect given your delicate frame. The noise echoed loudly throughout her vaunted ceilings. Rather surprisingly the dead did not awaken to investigate the racket.

Yet a certain blue-blood did.

You heard her, the epitome of grace and elegance stumbling down the stairs. As well as cursing. That was always a good sign. Suddenly the door flung open. And there she was: your moirail, Vriska Serket. Her hair was incredibly unkempt, frazzled hairs striving unsuccessfully to escape their attachment to her scalp. She was also barely dressed, seeing fit to greet you with just her ill-fitting jacket adorned across her shoulders and a pair of ridiculously ostentatious boxers adorned with gaudy eight-balls. Her modesty, or lack thereof, had always sent your heartbeat into a tizzy. Her eyes-

“What could you possibly want at this ungogly hour?” She shouted, cutting short the long rambling litany that had been developing in your mind. A litany that had certainly not developed because you were trying to avoid for as long as possible the potential awkwardness of your upcoming conversation. No certainly not-

“I am eight seconds away from slamming this door in your face, Kanaya!” She seethed.

You had to hand it to her, even sleep deprived as she so clearly was, she did an admirable job of holding onto her quirk. You-

This time you caught yourself.

“We need to talk.” You said lamely. Score one for Kanaya Maryam!

Her eyelids flickered, as she peeked upwards at the sun bearing down overhead, striving for some way to breach her hive’s mighty walls for a chance to cook her in her skin. “Now?!”

You pursed your lips, trying to retain your cool. “Now would in fact be the most convenient time, all other evidence to the contrary aside.”

She rolled her eyes, truly an unsettling gesture, before transfixing all eight of her pupils onto your form. “Fine Maryam, but I’ll have you know you are _really_ stretching our moirallegiance, and my patience. It better be good. Get in here and close the door: you’re letting all the darkness out.”

You stepped inside, closing the door gently behind you. She was grumbling to herself, muttering epitaphs under her breath before falling into a chair that creaked loudly against the floor, her gaze fixated on you. You pulled up a chair as well, folding your fingers demurely in your lap as you scrambled to think of the right words to say. It wasn’t that you didn’t have a plan, it was just that in the heat of the moment everything was so much harder to put into words. Your brain kept sputtering on certain topics and, oh Gog if she kept looking at you like that your heart might burst, and-

She sighed.

You gulped, as the first words came stumbling out. “I know what you are planning in regards to Nitram.” Her expression was inscrutable, you had expected some kind of outburst, maybe even a tantrum of some kind. How coolly she was receiving this was a little unnerving.

“And?” She responded curtly.

Oh.

Oh dear.

The pallor drained from your face, as your worst fears came true right before your eyes. She really did not expect you to do anything about it. You struggled to think of something to say, some threat that might tear you out of the web you had found yourself so thoroughly ensconced in.

“Well, I- I, well I’m here so… so-“ Good going Maryam, really laying the fear of Her Imperious Condescension thick onto her.

She chuckled, standing and stretching her arms far above her head before yawning theatrically. “Listen, while I think it’s really cute you came all the way here, during the day no less, there must be some really interesting thoughts swimming about in that pan of yours if you think I’d deign to let you stop me.”

Your expression faltered, you tried to correct it but you knew it was too late. Her smirk curved even further upwards. You felt righteous indignation bubble within your veins, knowing you couldn’t just let it lie like that. “I am your moirail Vriska, and I am putting my foot down.” You stated defiantly, rising from your chair along with her. She quirked an eyebrow, clearly startled by your spunk.

“Careful Kanaya,” she started icily. “You are only my moirail with my say so,” every word twisting the knife that much further into your back, “and if you continue to push me, you will no longer have it.”

There it was. Your knees wobbled like jelly beneath your dress, as you struggled to maintain your composure. Too late. Your knees buckled under the weight of Vriska’s blow, and you slumped backwards into the chair. You tried to think of something, anything to say to that. But she held all the cards. You had been deluding yourself, thinking you even had the opportunity to do something. She would ignore you, even to your face. Other than fighting her, something you were incredibly loathe to do, you really didn’t have any options. And she knew it.

She read you like an eight-ball, shaking her head softly as she began to retire from your presence. She knew you would not stop her. Yet she paused in her tracks, turning back to face you, eyes glimmering mischievously. “Head back to your hive Kanaya, and we’ll forget your… indiscretion happened. Start fresh tomorrow, alright?”

Trickles of jade bled slowly down your lips. Trapped as you were in this wretched abomination of an moirallegiance, you knew you had no real power over her. You were just another prop to her, a way for her to massage her twisted ego.

And yet.

You couldn’t let her go.

And maybe, just maybe, you thought digging through the refuse of your many bad ideas; you’d have a chance as her only friend.

“And what of Nitram?” You asked, accepting your defeat with as much grace as the scorpion would allow.

She smiled mirthlessly, baring her fangs. “The little pupa will advance. Or he’ll abscond. One way or another, I’ll have my answer.” She responded sardonically.

“Well, I certainly hope you know what you are doing.” You replied, and for the smallest fraction of a second uncertainty flashed over her features. You considered striking while the iron was hot, but she had already turned away.

And quite frankly, you were afraid to push.

So instead you simply stared as she took her leave of you, hair draped like a cloak behind her back, hips swaying with a certain cocky swagger. Every aspect of her demeanor reflected her recent victory. Certainly not even a very hard-fought one. You did your best to retain whatever dignity you could salvage from this disaster. You stepped gracefully towards the door, fingers curling around the knob.

“See you later, _moirail!_ ”

You froze, claws digging dents into the rusty brass. You turned your head, blood simmering, only to be met with the smuggest, shit-eating grin you’d ever seen. Not content with just her victory, she had to bury you into the mud as well. She couldn’t just let it go; she had to have the final word.

Not this time.

Your finger’s slipped off the brass, well what was left of it anyway. Once again she had turned her back to you, unconcerned. You began to approach her, slowly at first, your silent footfalls masked by her loud obnoxious ones. She stopped in her tracks, turning her head with a demon’s speed that surprised you.

But still not fast enough.

You barreled into her, knocking her on her ass, yet not before she grabbed your wrist, sending you both tumbling down the stairs. As you fell you took a moment to reflect on your ultimate mission here, the black feelings swirling in your heart certainly not making matters any less confusing. Looks like you’d have to play this by ear. She hit the floor with a thud, with you following soon after. You almost didn’t see her knee barreling for your chest. In just the nick of time you parried her blow with one of your own, knocking her off guard. You didn’t waste any time, pinning her hands above her head. She struggled, her strength admirable, yet not quite enough to temper your conviction.

Yet you knew you couldn’t keep this up.

You wracked your brain for a plan, as she cursed and spat at you, striving to free the legs you were barely keeping trapped beneath your, modest, bulk. See, these were the kinds of situations you got yourself into when you acted without thinking. You’d likely already broken your diamond, crossing a line she’d never forgive you for. But maybe you could fix it, find some way to apologize. At the very least some way to prevent her from ripping you limb from limb as soon as you freed her from your restraints. Maybe-

“Get the fuck off me!” She screeched, somehow even louder than before. It hit you like a ton of bricks. She was trying to claw her way inside your mind. You struggled to push her out, as she clumsily tore her way inside your brain. But it was her voice that truly irked you. It just kept going, a constant roar echoing infinitely within your mind. You couldn’t think. She needed to shut up. Not soon, now. Now, now, now, now, now, now, NOW! SHE NEEDED TO SHUT UP NOW!!!!!!!!!

“Shoosh!” You blurted, the words coming unbidden from somewhere deep within your thorax. With that forbidden word you’d ripped her out, mind still buzzing from the voice that had so briefly taken up residence inside.

“W-what the fuck did you just say to me?” She hissed; her struggling ceasing for the moment.

You blinked. You had not just crossed a line; you had taken air fare and flown all the way over to the other gogdamned side. She was going to _murder_ you, after burning down your hive and culling your lusus, along with anyone else unfortunate enough to be your friend. You were panicking now. What were you going to do?

…

“My duty. Now, shoosh.” You repeated, going all in.

“No! No I refuse to be-“

“Shoooooooosh.” You repeated yet again, stretching out the syllables just for her.

“I-I’m wa-warning you.” She slurred, body visibly slackening. You took a gamble, knowing this could have been a ruse. You freed her arms, expecting them to throttle you, but instead they simply laid there as if you hadn’t moved at all. “Go.” She murmured hazily. “Before I… think better of letting you stay alive.”

Every fiber of your being screamed at you to take her up on her offer, to escape while you had the chance. But curiosity kept you there atop her. It wasn’t that you were unaware of the effectiveness of paps and shooshes, it’s just you’d never had the chance to try them on a living breathing troll.

Following the establishment of your moirallegiance, you had practiced for hours on your lusus, looking up guides on how to do it effectively, thinking it would be the quickest path to your diamond’s trust, and maybe later to her heart. Yet she had stamped that idea deep into the harsh uncaring soil, hating the very concept of feelings-jams and paps. She just wanted something to brag about, a trophy moirail, just to prove she could. And of course you had been so desperate to get close to her, you’d accepted even those degrading terms. Yet now you had a chance, a chance you might never get again. And it was ultimately for that reason you stayed sentry over her rapidly flushing body.

You reached your hand out gingerly; Vriska’s body so unlike that of your darling lusus, whose enthusiasm for your pet project was only matched by her incongruity to the real thing. Yet the same principles, in theory, should apply.

She shivered at your touch, your fingers trailing ever so cautiously along the curve of her cheek. The way she was looking at you now, a mixture of both fear and curiosity hidden beneath the anger you knew she was struggling to express, sent your blood-pusher lumping in your protein chute. Now was not the time for your red feelings to be emerging to the fore, after all you had a job to do. A job you had totally not forgotten amidst all the recent excitement: nope, not at all.

“S-stop.” She whined, voice keening as you started trailing your fingers down her back.

“Will you stop trying to kill Tavros?” You asked in the slightest whisper, your breath tickling her ear.

“A-as if! th-that fucking wriggler won’t stop m-m-messing with me!” And with that she started swearing again, promising revenge against you for daring to humiliate her. You sighed, that had not been the answer you wanted to hear. At least, that was the story you would be sticking to in a courtblock of law.

You dug your knuckles into the base of her spine, her protests quickly dying before they reached the surface. “Shoosh.” You whispered feather light into her ear, kneading the volatile criss-cross of scars lining her back, battle wounds cementing her success and status on the hemospectrum.

She moaned, her body spasming at your touch. And, wow, was it getting hot in here? This was getting raunchier than even the filthiest pale romances you had read within the pages of the innumerable fine literature you regularly perused. Her breaths were coming in sharp, ragged gasps, as if the air around her could not find its way into her lungs quickly enough on its own.

“Have you reconsidered?”

She merely whimpered in response, hot tears bubbling to the fore, streaking slowly down her cheeks. Guilt struck you like lightning, as you pulled your fingers back mid-pap. They burnt like you had just touched one of the numerous irons in her fire. It had not been your intention to hurt her; that had always been the furthest thing from your mind. Well, your rational one at least. A mind which had apparently vacated the hive. Your fingers wavered, as it became clear to you how _wrong_ what you were doing was. You wanted to cosset her with affection, hold her tight against your bosom, and whisper sweet somethings in her ear.

But it wasn’t about what you wanted.

It could never be about what you wanted.

She was muttering something, certainly threats of violence against your person. Threats you quite honestly deserved. You wanted to hear them, feeling that maybe if you could withstand her verbal barrage you’d feel less awful about yourself. A pipedream perhaps, but one you needed to indulge at the moment for the sake of your withering conscience. “What?” You asked; voice heavy with expectation.

“More!” She shouted, her entire gangly frame shaking with what you assumed was rage and shame, all eight of her pupils boring into you.

“Oh.” You replied simply, guilt retreating from your psyche. She _did_ want this, she just couldn’t bring herself to admit it. In fact, she must have thought you were teasing her by goading her into admitting that, however unintentionally. You… really were not very good at this. Still, you had a duty to perform, well or not. “Alright Vriska, I am not trying to tease you.” You cooed, pulling her trembling form taut against you. You shooshed her gently and she groaned wordlessly, hanging onto your every syllable.

Seeing her look so vulnerable, so fragile, and a million other adjectives for the weakness she so despised in others, pumped fresh pity into your heart. This was a side of her you weren’t sure even she had known about. And she was baring it all for you. You stroked her hair softly with one hand, your other snaking across her stomach, your every movement exciting dull murmurs of approval. You could scarcely believe you had even entertained the notion of harboring black feelings for her. You felt so unbelievably flushed for her that you felt you might simply conflagrate into a massive spiraling inferno at any given moment. You were lucky; her eyes were closed as she mewled contentedly. She couldn’t see the heated blush that had stolen over your entire face. You wanted to freeze this moment forever, endlessly replay it somewhere other than your mind.

But, as you well knew, nothing lasted forever.

“Now, about Tavros…”

She sighed dramatically, before craning her neck to look at you. “What about him?”

This was it. The moment you’d waited on her frond and nub for. She was finally opening the door, maybe just a crack, but a monumental step nonetheless. You had to pick your words carefully, lest she slam this one like she so nearly did her hive’s scarcely an hour ago. “Why are you trying to kill him?”

She didn’t reply, not at first anyway. Her eyebrows pulled together, as if she was searching for a reason behind the impulsive actions she so often indulged without a second thought. “Because I…” She stopped mid-sentence, explanation stoppered in her chitinous windhole.

Carefully, and with the greatest gentleness, you papped the curve of her collar-bone. Her breath hitched, as she arched her back luridly against you. “Why?” You asked; whisper low and silky smooth against the roughened contours of her ear.

“B-because I think… I think…” She struggled with the words, hating the taste of whatever was about to come unfurling from her lips. “I’m flushed for him.”

And with that declaration, she had cut you more cleanly than if you had been sawn in half. You struggled to maintain your composure, a Herculean task. You wanted her to rip apart his bones, and tear him limb from limb for even thinking of intruding on the quadrant you had been so pitifully pining for ever since you had first met the Scorpio. And yet, you couldn't let her do that. Despite how intensely your desires roared within your mind, you had to protect her.

Even from yourself.

“A-and why do you say that?” You stammered, smacking yourself inwardly for so quickly doubling back on your convictions. Yet still hoping that maybe, just maybe…

“He has the sign," she began glazing right over your incredibly apparent discomfort. "The sign of the summoner. The Troll who started a rebellion that so terrified the Condesce she banished adults from our planet. The Troll whom Mindfang had shared her red quadrant with in a dalliance that trailed bronze and blue across both the oceans and the skies. But he’s… he’s…”

She paused, for such a long time you thought you were going to have to ‘encourage’ her to spill the beans about your romantic rival. Until that is her voice erupted full force from her lungs like a volcano, naked fury shaking the entirety of her lithe frame. “Weak, the weakest, most spineless coward I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting in my gogdamn entire life! He’s nothing like what he should be, he’s not cool, he’s not powerful, he’s not inspirational, he’s just weaky, weakey, weak!” She screeched.

“Shoosh.” You whispered, fixating on the task at hand for fear you might break apart under the relentless assault of her indifference. “He cannot help who he is.”

“Exactly! Gog knows I’ve tried, yet every time he just… he just…” Her voice trailed off. Likely on account of the fact she was once again moaning beneath your more forceful ministrations along the curve of her spine.

“If you kill him Vriska, I will never pap you again.” You stated simply, dull resignation lining every word. After all, it was clear she’d never notice you pining away from her in the shadows. And at least this way, you could always keep her close and safe. That was one solace you could not afford to lose. 

And yet there was a promise behind your words, a selfish, monstrous hope that you had allowed to linger in the vain-

“I’ll… call it off.” She replied similarly simply, not attaching the sentiment with any real importance.

You did not reply, as she sealed the fate you had so foolishly left within her hands. This is what you deserved in any case for being such a feckless coward. You continued to pap her gently, your fingers trailing the faintest symbols of her sign along her skin. You could feel her body slackening, eyelids drooping, as sleep dared to steal her away from you.

“Kanaya.” She mumbled, voice light and airy.

“Yes?” You asked, expectation rising despite yourself.

“Pale for you.”

It took all of your not inconsiderable amount of restraint not to cry right then and there. “Pale for you too.” Her lip curved upward, not into the smugness of a smirk, but instead a genuine smile, before she slumped against you, fast asleep. You carried her gently up the stairs to her ‘coon, laying her down into the refreshing sopor so you’d be assured she slept peacefully this day. As you took your leave, you turned and took one final glance at your moirail, her horns poking out from within her ‘coon adorably.

Tears stung your cheeks.

You _would_ protect her.

Even from _yourself._

 


End file.
